


Anonymity

by Bibliodragon



Category: Halo (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Drinking, F/M, Flirting, Shore Leave, Walk Into A Bar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-02
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-06 03:48:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25666936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bibliodragon/pseuds/Bibliodragon
Summary: 'He didn’t see any familiar faces, but even in civvies you could still recognise the uniform. A couple of his pilot brethren at the pool table. A group of marines engrossed in hushed conversation around a table at the back. A few other individuals scattered about, in various stages of intoxication.But sometimes you just needed to go where no one knew your name. 'A pilot and an ODST meet in a bar.
Relationships: Thomas Lasky/Sarah Palmer
Comments: 8
Kudos: 20





	Anonymity

Being only a short tether ride away from one of the UNSC’s busiest (non-classified) stations, the bar had long ago given up any attempt to serve to a wider clientele. Soldiers and sailors on leave had a particular set of needs when on shore leave after all, and the bar catered for some (and unofficially for the others, thanks to some entrepreneurial patrons who would sit in the shadows) but classy ambience wasn’t one of them. No sawdust on the floor, but there was a suspicious dark patch under the nearest chair which suggested it might have been useful. That and the way the floor tried to keep a hold of his feet every time he took a step. 

But the beer was…tolerable, and if you were wanting something a little stronger and had a few brain cells going to waste, the place had you covered. And when your previous options had been moonshine distilled by soldiers with only a passing familiarity with chemistry, you had learned to take your opportunities where you could. 

As his eyes grew accustomed to the gloom, Tom Lasky returned nods at the other patrons as he passed by. He didn’t see any familiar faces, but even in civvies you could still recognise the uniform. A couple of his pilot brethren at the pool table. A group of marines engrossed in hushed conversation around a table at the back. A few other individuals scattered about, in various stages of intoxication. 

But sometimes you just needed to go where no one knew your name. 

He pulled back the closest stool which on a cursory glance passed muster (any deeper observations were never a good idea in this place) and took a seat at the bar. It was quiet, just a low murmuring: the electronic cheer of the current game on the holotable, the clunk of actual real-life billiard balls, the occasional laugh. It was still early in the day.

The owner served him at the bar, an older man made more of hair and beard than flesh, because while his place served soldiers that didn’t mean he had to shave like one. Every time Tom stopped by it seemed he had added another inch or two to the impressive braid at the back of his head, except for the one occasion he had been startled to find him completely bald of head and utterly unwilling to talk about it. And as he never brought up the very first time Tom had visited, brought in by his fellow pilots to celebrate earning his wings, fresh of face and stomach lacking in tolerance for hard liquor, Tom had always felt the least he could do was return the favour. 

A nod of recognition and a glass of what looked to be Scotch was placed in front of him. Ignoring the feeling of grit as his fingers touched the glass, he knocked it back in one and slapped it back down, the tap of glass against cheap metal not enough to cover the cough that managed to escape him. Nor hide the snort of amusement that caused him to glance at the woman sitting to his left.

“Well that was a rookie mistake.” She was watching him out of the corner of her eye, short dark hair framing her face, with a hint of a smile on her lips as she toyed with the beer bottle in her hands. She was a striking woman: that was obvious even in ankle boots, civvy slacks and t-shirt under a well-worn and supple-looking leather jacket. But Tom had been taught it was rude to stare, so he just lifted his hand up to call for another. 

“What makes you think I’m a rookie, soldier?” His voice held out long enough to reach the end of the sentence, when he had to hide a cough into his fist. 

He swore he could _hear_ her grin get wider. “What makes you think I’m a soldier, fly boy?” She tapped her beer bottle against the bar as she leaned back, perfectly balanced on the bar stool. “Maybe I’m here on business. There are a lot of lonely soldiers on shore leave who’ve only had their right hand for company for so long, after all.”

It took all his restraint to keep his composure, but he did feel the corner of his mouth twitch upward. Luckily the bartender returned with his second dose of poison to provide a moment for Tom to pull himself back together. “Not really dressed for the occasion, are you?”

“What, the little red dress? That’s in for dry cleaning. I’m sure you understand.” She brought the bottle to her lips and tipped her head back, draining the dregs. 

Tom chuckled, and shook his head. “You know, maybe I would have bought that, but there’s only one group of soldiers who drink that brand.”

“Oh?” She placed the bottle back on the bar and looked at him, one eyebrow arched. “And who are they?”

He paused a long moment, before deploying his ace in the hole. “Army troopers.”

“Oh, fuck you!” She turned to him face on, fire in her eyes but a slight curl at the corner of her mouth, and when she refrained from smashing the empty bottle and lunging at him for that he confirmed he had judged her correctly. “You owe me a drink for that insult, fly boy.” 

Tom conceded the point, and waved the bartended over once again. “Another one for the Marine. Though I am willing to upgrade to something with an actual flavour if you want.”

“It’s ODST now. Same is fine. And fuck you.” She had settled back down, that amused smile playing on her lips again as she looked at him through heavily lidded eyes as another bottle was placed in front of her.

“I hope you’re not going to put this one through the window like last time,” the bar owner said, as he turned back to move grime around with a suspiciously grey cloth at the other end of the bar.

“Fuck you, Jerry. I paid for that.”

“You put someone through a window?” Tom couldn’t hide the concern from his voice, but the woman just rolled his eyes at him. 

“It was fine, he walked away after, and besides he had it coming after hassling some of the other patrons. It wouldn’t have been a problem if Jerry’s last bouncer wasn’t such a coward. No one likes a snitch, Jerry!” That last bit was shouted down the bar. Without raising his head, the bar owner gave a slowly raised finger in response, and with a low chuckle the woman picked up her new beer. 

Tom’s conflicting emotions must have been visible on his face, because after taking a long drink she paused to give him _that_ look. So he just mentally shook himself, picked up his glass and raised it. “Well, here’s to…paying old debts, I guess.” 

It didn’t go down any easier than it had the first time, and this time there was no disguising the cough. 

“If you really want to hurt yourself, I can throw you through the window if you’d prefer. Would probably do less damage to you.”

“I’ll consider it,” he said, managing to croak it out. He wiped the water from his vision to see her grinning full bore at him, and she waved her bottle at him. 

“See, I know what I’m doing.”

“Is that a fact now?” But he waved the bar owner over once again. Something about the woman had gotten him deep inside that he couldn’t allow himself to concede defeat. Almost as if he had something to prove. “Leave the bottle. And another glass.” He smirked at her as the weapons of choice were placed in front of them. “That is of course if you think you aren’t up to the challenge.”

He had judged her correctly; she was not a woman to back down. She met his gaze coolly, though that spark of amusement never left her. “If I didn’t know better, I would think you wanted to get me drunk, fly boy.” 

“You seem very certain I’m a fly boy. Maybe I’m an ODST too.”

“You?” She let out a bark of laughter that immediately softened at whatever she saw cross his face. “Well, you may have the guts for it, but A. You didn’t open with a comment about my tits or ass.” She picked up the bottle, poured a generous measure and downed it in one without breaking a sweat. “B. Your boots are far too shiny and expensive looking, as if you actually put some effort into a night on the town rather than just expecting women to fall at your feet when you say you jump out of space ships for a living. And C. Your ass.”

“Excuse me? My ass marks me out as a pilot?” He had to admit he’d never heard that one before.

“Ass, thighs, the whole package really.” 

“And is that something they teach you to notice in Boot?”

As he waited for her to elaborate she just poured herself another shot and grinned at him, waiting for him to make the next move. Draw.

He felt the buzz of his comms device in his pocket. He did his best to ignore it (there was no chime to indicate it was important), but it still managed to break the stalemate and she gave a snort of triumph when he broke her gaze momentarily.

Next round, then. He pulled the bottle onto his side of the bar, more to give himself a moment to think rather than any intention to drink any more. He watched the liquid slosh around while feeling the heat of the amusement that radiated from his new companion. “Alright. I won’t ask how that works if it’s a branch secret. Though I wouldn’t have though you guys got a good view napping in your drop pods, waiting on us finishing the hard work.”

“Hey, at least we’re not sitting on our asses all the time like some people. Besides, sometimes you just need a good nap between workouts.” She reached over and took the bottle from him, her fingers brushing against his own as she drew it from his grip. “Shows that you’re doing it right.” 

“Is that a fact? So what you’re saying is stamina is overrated?” He enjoyed watching the amused annoyance (or was it the other way around?) pass over her face as she poured herself another shot. 

“Now that’s just putting words into my mouth.”

He paused, and then leaned forward and gave her his best suggestive grin. “Well, I can think of something else to put there if you’d prefer.”

Finally, she was coughing into the Scotch. “Ow you made me snort that crap up my nose, you bastard.” She was doubled up and spluttering, and he felt a short stab of concern before she surfaced, eyes bright and absolutely beautiful as she alternated between coughing and laughing. “God, that was awful. How the hell have you ever gotten laid?” 

“Women with terrible taste. Still, got you laughing.” So it was worth it. 

“Yeah. And I suppose that’s worth a sleazy bar bathroom fuck if anything is.” 

The chime cut through like a knife, and they both froze. 

Breaking the moment with a weary sigh, Tom pulled out his comms and put on his captain voice, and along with it the weary responsibility of captain of the UNSC’s largest and most advanced warship. “Go ahead Roland.”

“Hey, Captian. This isn’t an emergency like, oh no the ship is on fire, so don’t worry about that.” The voice of Infinity’s AI chirped brightly into the gloom. “It’s just these ONI guys have shown up, and they’re not appreciating my attempts to stall them at all. If you don’t come back here now, they’re going to go looking for you, and…well…”

“No, it’s ok. Thanks for the warning, Roland. I’ll head on up.” 

She was glaring at the puddles of alcohol now scattered across the bar. He felt a lurch at how quickly the mirth had gone from her. “Sarah…”

“No, it’s fine. It’s not your fault.” Spartan Commander Sarah Palmer took a deep breath, and when she met his gaze she had managed to keep a touch of humour at the edges. “If you want I can come and shoot them for you.”

“Yeah, that’s not a good idea. I have enough paperwork waiting up there as it is.” He sighed, and then reached over to place a kiss on her forehead. “Look, just try not to put anyone through the window while I’m gone. I’m sure I can turn on the old captain charm enough to get rid of them before the day is out.”

“Yeah? You better. But no promises about the window.” 

It was with a wrench that he left some credits on the bar and with a farewell nod at Jerry he headed on out. The last thing he heard over the background noise of the bar being Sarah pulling out her own comms and making her own call to Infinity's AI.

“Thanks for the cock block, Roland!”


End file.
